Live Without the Sunlight
by Sailorkelly
Summary: Jareth ignores reason and relies on impulse. Sarah confronts her buried emotions.
1. Say Your Right Words

Part 1- Say Your Right Words

"'Say your right words!' the goblins said. 'And we will keep the baby forever and ever and ever. And you will be free.'"

Sarah drew in a wistful breath through her nose and lifted her eyes to meet their surprised reflection in Toby's dresser mirror. Eyebrows, once black and unkempt, had long been wrestled under control, but the look of alert was still identical to the one on the face of two and a half years' ago.

Life had taken a definite uphill swing since her race to save her brother from the Labyrinth. She had long understood that the Goblin King had used her brother as a pawn to lure her into his domain; he had never really wanted Toby for his own. But the baby was handy. He had taunted Sarah with Toby and Sarah had learnt that taking people for granted, babies or Goblin Kings was foolhardy and possibly dangerous. So her attitude had turned.

Her father and stepmother Karen had graciously removed the granted they had too placed on Sarah in light of Sarah's renewed outlook on life, and in return she accepted and even embraced the life within her home that she had always been passively resisting. A weekend spent away with her father in Maine shortly after the Labyrinth had lain to rest many of the insecurities and resentments that she had been carrying around with her since her mother left and Karen came into the picture. Things weren't perfect, but at least now she had come to accept them, and realised that her father still thought of her as a person rather than as a built-in babysitter. Occasionally though, she still had urges to behave or respond in a passive aggressive manner, but more often than not, she felt childhood tendencies slipping from her shoulders ever since the night she began packing away her trinkets inside the drawers of her dressing table.

But tonight was the first time in a long time that she had caught herself whispering remembered words from that night long ago. And fancy being _those_ words, Sarah thought to herself. How perditious. Her stretch of growing up had also included an improved vocabulary, thanks to a renewed concentration at school instead of spending hours dreaming of fantasy situation that usually involved her as the heroine, and tall tragic heroes. Say Your Right Words had become an auspicious theme in Sarah's life as she learned how to communicate better to her father and Karen and how to state what she wanted and needed. As it turned out, people weren't mind readers, and as Sarah slowly learned this, she herself had settled into a happier and much more secure place.

Which is why she felt so surprised to find herself, out of the blue, whispering Goblin dialogue in the middle of putting away pairs of Toby's clean socks. The last time she hissed these words, she was in character, frustrated, angry, and hard done by. She had wished her brother away- and he had been taken. Not stolen, as she had later corrected herself, but taken as per her will. But that was ages ago, she thought. She wasn't mad at Toby now. Nor herself. Sarah stood in Toby's room, looking at her won reflection, in an empty house on a Saturday night. Her father and Karen had taken Toby to Connecticut for the weekend to visit Karen's parents, and Sarah, two weeks into eighteen years old, had remained behind for some quality down time. And now she was putting away tiny socks which, although a chore, Sarah didn't mind doing. She loved her brother. She didn't take him for granted, especially now. So what evil sprite perched upon her shoulder and urged her to reminisce with these words upon her lips?

Smiling at her own fanciful thoughts, she put the whisper away as a random childhood throwback. Pressing her teeth over her tongue, Sarah flounced out of the room and down the stairs to collect a new stack of clean Toby shirts to put away.


	2. Cold Showers

Part 2- Cold Showers

Wet wind sliced the night air, ruffling the feathers at the neck of the white owl that clutched hard to the stiff branch upon which it was resting. Persistent beads of rain slicked down its form unable to draw the owl's attention away from the window that caught its eye.

Not often was he allowed to leave the Labyrinth, but tonight he had felt a special call- one that even he could not explain. Miserable New England weather was no foe for he- in fact it was preferable as it obscured his presence and was likely to limit Sarah to the one location. Watching her through his crystals could be difficult at the best of times, and the last twenty two months had seen Sarah live with renewed vigour and energy. She had been a hard one to follow.

Not tonight, however. The presence of rain must have called to his instincts and told him that a wet weekend in an empty house was too good an opportunity to pass up. Leaving the castle unattended was generally a catastrophic idea under normal circumstances, and the Labyrinth itself so precarious that leaving it unsupervised with a population of stupid yet well-meaning goblins was a certain path for disaster. But tonight he didn't care. He was pent up with restless energy that needed an outlet. If the castle resembled a ghetto when he returned, then he would unleash his razor-sharp temper through his magic, his riding crop and his biting curses; then curl up on his usual window ledge and think in stony silence. That was usually the way it worked. He calmed down after wreaking havoc, and the cycle started at the beginning again. But this was the first time he had left the castle. He was playing with fire, and somewhere, he knew it. But he was tired of imagining scenarios that ended with her saying his name: Jareth.

Water sluiced down the quarter-paned living room window to distort Sarah's moving image. It blurred and wavered as her limbs moved in a pattern- picking up a small garment, folding it and placing it on the arm of the sofa. Again and again she moved in rhythmical motion, black hair swinging, parting for a pale moon of a face, features hidden by the rain slicking down the glass. Features that Jareth would loathe admitting he spent hours examining in his mind; the white forehead, large grey-green eyes, and her indignant mouth. The only person he couldn't intimidate into submission. The only person who wasn't afraid of him anymore. His equal, his better, his master. His Sarah.

She disappeared from the room Jareth was peering through with black owl eyes, and he saw an upstairs light snap on and off again quickly. Then the dormer window next to it, directly above him, pushed forward a soft aura of light. The window opened outward into two halves, manipulated by a small, white hand encircled with many plastic bracelets, and quickly tucked back inside the room. The soft light went black.

The owl launched in an upwards motion, bouncing from branch to branch, using the sound of the impending storm to mask his approach. Settling under a canopy of leaves adjacent to the open window, Jareth let his eyes readjust. He kept looking. He swore to himself that was all


End file.
